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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26936158">It's Not the Violence That Sets Us Apart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/janebymoonlight/pseuds/janebymoonlight'>janebymoonlight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Leatherface (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, My First Fanfic, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Threats of Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:29:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,776</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26936158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/janebymoonlight/pseuds/janebymoonlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Begins prior to Leatherface (2017), follows the course of the movie and beyond.</p><p>Edith Parker enters Gorman House at any early age. She is too soft to fend for herself, and so begins to rely on Jackson and Bud for protection. They grow up learning to find strength and comfort in each other, a little family in the midst of a violent and clinical childhood. When the riot at Gorman House leads to the three of them being stuck on the run with a hostage nurse and two bullies with a craving for violence, Edie must overcome her own gentle nature to protect the ones she loves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leatherface | Jedidiah Sawyer/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Edith Parker arrives at Gorman House Youth Reformatory in 1959, three weeks after her ninth birthday. She’s being transported by a deputy, not Sheriff Hartman himself, and she’s glad of it. The baliff at the courthouse where the judge had sentenced her to Gorman House had let her hold a teddy bear while she sat and waited for all the men to finish talking. Afterwards, the sheriff had snatched it right out of her hands. Now she only has her little sweater to hold, balled up and clutched tight to her chest. </p><p>She can’t see the deputy over the wall of his seat, but she can see the top of the tall white building out her window. It’s bigger than any house she’s ever seen, bigger even than the courthouse. It’s the size of a castle, maybe, like the ones in the books she read to her sisters at night. Only there is something ugly about it, something mean. When the car stops, she pulls her knees up to her chest, curling around her little bundled up jacket, and tucks her face in tight. Hot tears press against the back of her throat, pool behind her eyes. She wants to go home home homehomehome… only there is no home left. </p><p>The deputy tries to be gentle as he gets her out. He cringed when Hartman took the bear from her, even if he hadn’t stepped in. Now he pats a broad hand against her back. “There now, sweetheart, it ain’t so bad. There will be other kids here, and nice doctors to make you better.”<br/>
She doesn’t lift her head, letting her tears soak into the jacket. Once she goes in, there will be no coming out again. That’s what the sheriff told her, before he loaded her into the deputy’s car and slammed the door. </p><p>“Little girls who do evil, like you, go to Gorman House forever. It’ll probably be straight to prison for you after, if they don’t stick you in a looney bin. Plenty of time to think about all the wrong you done.”<br/>
Edie already thinks about it all the time. She doesn’t need doctors or other evil girls to make her think about what she’d done. The flames come to her in her dreams every night.<br/>
The deputy slides one hand under her knees, the other around her waist, and lifts. “Come on girlie, let’s get it over with.” He pulls her from the car with barely a grunt. Edie knows she doesn’t weigh very much. She’s small for her age, shorter than the other kids in her class. Her mama told her that she would have a growth spurt like everybody else, but it hasn’t happened yet.<br/>
He sets her down on her feet, and she follows him up a long white walkway. A man is waiting for them by the front door, and two ladies in nurses uniforms stand behind him. They are all watching her.<br/>
“Howdy, doc. Got the new one for you, straight from the courthouse,” the deputy says, putting his hand on her shoulder. “This is Edith Parker. The arson and double homicide.”</p><p> </p><p>They take away all her clothes. The two nurses put her in a standing stall shower and tell her to scrub. The water is too hot. She’s used to the big soaking tub at home, and the water spraying in her face makes her feel like she’s drowning. She scrubs her hair and body with soap that smells like nothing. After, one of the nurses sets her down on a stool and picks through her still wet blonde hair with a comb. When she finds no signs of lice, she lets Edie dress. They give her four white cotton gowns and four sets of white cotton underwear. They feel like night clothes, like sleepwear. Her legs are bare and cold, and goosebumps well up all over her body. </p><p>They lead her to a long room of cots. Each bed is neatly made with white sheets and a single white pillow each. She shares a small two-drawer dresser with the girl in the bed beside her, one drawer each. Her room at home had a double bed with a quilted comforter her granny had stitched before she was born. Edie remembers that’s all burned up now, and begins to cry again. </p><p>“Now, hush with all that. You don’t want your first impression with the other children to be you crying and carrying on, do you?” one of the nurses asks, her gaze disapproving. </p><p>Edie wipes her tear away with the backs of her hands, going slow as she situates her clothes in her draw. She hears the nurses chatting from their place by the door. </p><p>“She looks like a little angel, doesn’t she? So tiny, with all that blonde hair, and big ole’ brown eyes. Like a baby doll.” One nurse says, her whisper carrying through the empty room. She’s young. She smiled at Edie when they led her inside the building. </p><p>“Yeah well, from what I hear, that little angel of yours gave her stepdaddy a couple of sleeping pills in his bourbon, then burned the house down around him while he slept. Mama was inside too. Found her and her siblings sitting under a tree, eating pecans and watching the house burn like it was a campfire.” </p><p>The younger nurse gasps, and it is all Edie can do not to start crying again. It isn’t fair. She hadn’t known Mama was in the house. And the little ones were hungry, so of course she’d shelled their pecans for them while they waited for the fire trucks to come. She was always supposed to take care of them, that’s what Granny told her. Those were Granny’s favorite saying. “Family takes care of it’s own,” and “Family business is family business.” Edie knew them and took them to heart, just like her nightly prayer and the ten commandments. </p><p>She pushes her creaky drawer closed and turns back to the nurses. They’re both watching her with wide, curious eyes, like they might be looking for little devil horns to pop out of her hair. It’s still damp, dark with the water and hanging heavy down over her shoulders. At home, Mama would braid their hair each night after baths. She wishes someone would braid it back for her now, but she’s too scared to ask. </p><p>She hasn’t said much at all since the fire. She told what happened, because it isn’t good to tell lies. No one had believed her when she said Luke, Mama’s husband, had liked to hurt them, but they had believed her when she explained the process of grinding up the pills Mama got from the doctor to help her sleep, mixing them in the glass of bourbon Luke asked her to fix him every evening, and waiting for him to fall asleep at his desk before bringing the gasoline inside. Mama hadn’t believed her about Luke, and neither had the preacher, who went on hunting trips with him in the fall. Now she was here, and her sisters were living in Arkansas with Aunt Lidia, safe from Luke. </p><p>Edie follows the nurses down a long hallway, while the older nurse explains all about meal time and medications and punishments for bad behavior. She listens close, because she never liked getting in trouble, and she especially doesn’t want to get in trouble here, because Sheriff Hartman told her he’d come take her to a real prison if she did. She doesn’t think he can really do that, but his eyes were so cold and so hard she doesn’t ever want to test it. </p><p>“We separate by age group for recreation time. There aren’t that many kids so young as you. Most are older, teenagers. Once you get that old, we separate recreation time by age and by gender, so there’s no funny business.”</p><p>Edie doesn’t know what the nurse means by funny business, but she does like the idea of no boys allowed at playtime. The boys in her class at school always call her “crybaby” and break her crayons.<br/>
They lead her through two big steel double doors, and into what looks like a library. There are shelves with books, and tables in the middle. Children fill the room, coloring or reading or writing at the tables. A group of girls stands to one side playing clapping and rhyming games. The older nurse claps her hands and all the children turn pale faces towards them. </p><p>“This is Edith, she’ll be joining your age group. Be polite, or Dr. Lang will hear about it.”</p><p>She turns her face down to Edie. “Go and meet the rest of the children. Someone will be down to take the group to dinner. In the morning, you’ll have your medication and then it will be off to lessons for all of you. Dr. Lang might pull you out at some point, so don’t cause any trouble.”</p><p>She leaves without giving Edie a second glance, and the second nurse follows close behind. Another woman is sitting on a high stool reading the paper. Behind a big window set into the wall, Edie can see two bored looking men playing cards. </p><p>The other children are staring. She wonders if they can see the tear streaks on her cheeks. No one approaches her or smiles or anything friendly. Edie curls some of her hair around her finger, uncertain. She moves toward the group of girls playing off to the side. </p><p>“Hello,” she says, trying to smile. Most of the girls quickly look away, but an older girl with dark hair steps up. </p><p>“Hey. I’m Laura. Why are you here? Your mama go to jail or something?” Her accent is heavy with Texas drawl, as thick as any Edie has ever heard. </p><p>“No, she didn’t go to jail. I got in trouble and they put me hear to learn how to be good, I guess. Can I play with you?”</p><p>Laura considers. “You don’t look old enough to play with us. They’ve got some baby books and color sheets over on that table. Why dontcha do that?” She turns her back on Edie, dismissing her form the group. </p><p>“I’m nine!” Edie protests, trying hard to keep the whine out of her voice. None of the girls pay her any attention. Near tears again, she turns toward the table Laura pointed out. A huge boy is sitting there, gripping a blue crayon tightly as he scribbles. If he’s here with her, he’s probably not much older, but he’s already as big as the sixth graders at her school. She’s torn. She likes to color, is really good at it. She even won a prize for best in the lines picture in second grade. But the boy is so big, and she’s always been a little afraid of boys. What if he doesn’t want to share? What if he’s mean and breaks the crayons?  </p><p>“That’s Bud. He ain’t mean. If you want to color, I’ll take you over there and tell him to share.”</p><p>The voice beside her makes her jump. A dark haired boy is peaking to her. He’s a whole head taller, which she’s used to. His voice is quiet and steady. He sounds nice, and no one has really been nice to her since the fire. Without thinking, she reaches down and grabs his hand in her smaller one. He looks startled, but doesn’t pull away. </p><p>“Hello. I’m Edie and I’m nine. I would sure appreciate it if he would let me color.”</p><p>The dark haired boy glances around, probably hoping no one sees and thinks he has cooties from holding hands with a girl. He doesn’t pull away though, and Edie is so so grateful. </p><p>“I’m Jackson. That’s the name they gave me here. Come on,” he says, pulling her towards the table where the big boy sits, still scribbling with his blue crayon. She follows behind, still timid, clutching his hand for all she’s worth.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Family You Make</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mealtimes at Gorman House were the only times when all the children in the facility were gathered into one place. The cafeteria was a big room with grey tiled floors, lined with two long rows of wooden benches. There was a wide gap between the two rows, and the orderlies who were really just guards walked up and down the gap, waiting for someone to fall out of line. </p>
<p>Jackson always sat at the end of the row with his back to the solid wall. He liked to keep the doors and windows in his line of sight. It helped with the suffocating feeling of being so tightly kept, always in cramped crowded rooms and long narrow hallways. They were so rarely allowed outside, and even when they were only allowed to wander the space of the flat, fenced yard.  At fourteen, his memories of life before Gorman House were mostly snapshot images tied to sense triggers. He had spent eight years trying to put that life out of his mind. But he had never lost the sense that he was meant to be outdoors. Edie said he had probably lived on a farm, and that made sense to Jackson. Two of the things he remembered most vividly were an old barn, tall and going to rot, and the pigs.</p>
<p>She sits to his left, her hair washed golden in the evening light shining through the windows. She is chattering away to a girl to her left, her body turned away from him. As she speaks, her slim fingers tear her dinner roll into smaller and smaller pieces, little white flecks piling up on her tray. Bud sits across from him, quickly and efficiently cleaning his plate of beef and gravy over rice. Just as he finishes, Edie halts her conversation to reach for his tray, scraping half her meal over to the big boy. He grins at her, reaching to give her hand an affectionate little pat. When she turns to grasp his hand, her knees press into Jackson’s leg, and her hair brushes against his arm. </p>
<p>This is his favorite time of day. They so rarely get to be together like this anymore. They’ve passed the age where they’re allowed recreation together, and Bud is behind him and Edie in classes. Someone is always missing. It didn’t sit right with him. Family should be together. </p>
<p>Someone shoves by behind them, and Edie give a startled little cry. Jackson spins in his seat in time to catch Ike looking back to laugh. A few strands of dark blonde hair are wrapped around his fingers. He tries to push to his feet, but Edie’s small hand latches around his forearm. He can feel the bite of her nails against the soft skin of his inner arm. </p>
<p>“Jack, don’t!” she hisses, dragging his arm down towards her lap. Ike grins and wiggles his fingers, making a show of tucking the hair away in his pocket. An orderly walks over, but Ike is already making his way towards his seat at the opposite end of the table, where a group of older boys sits laughing and cheering. </p>
<p>Laura, the older girl across the table from Edie, leans forward. “You shouldn’t give him such a good reaction every time. He’ll only mess with her more if he thinks he can get a rise out of you.” He feels her jostle Edie’s legs under the table. “Not that you don’t have hair to spare, princess.”</p>
<p>Edie still has a death grip on his arm under the table, keeping it in her lap. She’s rubbing soothing little circle over the marks her nails left, but stops to reach for the back of her head. She dabs at the back of her head, then checks her fingers, like she expected there to be blood. </p>
<p>“Finish teaching me to braid, and I won’t have so many loose pieces to yank,” she tells Laura. Her hand settles back onto his arm, resuming the delicate little circles against his skin. He wonders if she’s even aware of the gesture. They both grew up in house with lots of children, but where his siblings and cousins had been all rough play and bruises, her sisters had apparently been like a pile of little kittens, all affection. It was a habit she hadn’t lost. It had been so long since post of them had experienced touch from a place of kindness instead of violence, people sort of gravitated towards her. </p>
<p>He leaves his arm in her grip and turns back to Bud, whose forehead is wrinkled in unhappiness. The staff at Gorman House treated Bud like he was stupid, but he wasn’t. He was a lot like Edie, in that he was perfectly docile until pushed in just the right way, and then he could do a lot of harm. Her tolerance was just a little better. </p>
<p>“I’m alright, darling, no worries,” Edie says, leaning a little into Jackson to give Bud a big smile. Jackson tried not to let his face flush. She eased up, releasing his arm to turn back to the girl she’d been talking to before Ike came by to cause problems. Laura is staring at the place between them. </p>
<p>“You make it too obvious,” she says, shaking her head and taking a big bite of her roll. She’s peeled off the bottom, which is left on the table beside her tray, spotted with mold. </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Your weak spots,” she says around a mouthful of bread. “You better get it under control. Ike isn’t afraid of a little punishment from Dr. Lang, especially if he can take someone with him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night, Ike corners him outside the showers. The older boys shower at night, the younger boys in the morning. At fourteen, Jackson is just now old enough to be counted in the second group. He’s drying his head with a thin towel when something slams, hard, into his shoulder and sends his crashing into the doorframe. </p>
<p>Ike is grinning at him when he turns around. “Sorry about that. Why don’t you go find your little girlfriend and let her kiss it better? Or maybe she leaves that kind of thing to that big idiot you’re always trailing around. You know, if you’re not putting her to good use, I’d be happy to show you how it’s done.” </p>
<p>Ike’s laugh is cut off in a spray of blood. Jackson’s fist catches him right under his jaw, and his head snaps to the side, teeth locking down hard on his tongue. Jackson feels the skin over his knuckles split, but doesn’t pay it any mind. He isn’t even really that angry. He just needs to show Ike that there are consequences to actions taken against Jackson, against the people he loves. Bud and Edie both have a threshold they must be shoved over to result to violence. Violence is something that is always in Jackson, living hot under his skin. It gives him better control over it. He doesn’t like causing pain, never has. But sometimes it is necessary. </p>
<p>They orderlies drag the boys apart in moments. Jackson’s knuckles are already beginning to swell, and Ike is spitting blood. Fighting is strictly against the rules, and they will both face the consequences later. But with any luck, Ike and maybe others will hesitate before causing problems for Jackson’s little self-made family. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next day, he asks Laura at breakfast is she’d like to be his girl. She’s two years older, but she says yes. He doesn’t feel anything in particular about her. She’s pretty and sharp, and she’s been very careful to take Edie under her wing in the four years since the younger girl arrived. That’s the thing they have most in common, he thinks. Not just the ability to detect the soft heart, but the instinct to protect it. Laura says yes, and before she leaves the cafeteria for her morning classes, she gives him a quick peck on the lips. A nurse hurries after her, because romantic relationships are strictly prohibited at Gorman House, but the impact of the act has been made. </p>
<p>The rush of whispers through the room makes the tips of Jackson’s ears hot. Edie sits very straight in the seat beside him, staring vacantly at her plate of cold, runny eggs and gristly sausage. She doesn’t say anything, or look up at all. Jackson’s stomach churns. </p>
<p>He had lain in bed the whole night before, his head aching from Dr. Lang’s electric punishment, and tried to order his muddled thoughts. Just as the blue hour before dawn had begun to settle in outside, he began to come to some kind of conclusion. The threats Ike directed at Edie had been to rile Jackson, because he expected the hot temper of a jealous boyfriend. People had made assumptions about the relationship between them. If they thought she was nothing but his close friend, no more or no less than Bud, their minds might not move so easily to the thought of her as a weak spot to get to him. Laura gave him the idea to try to disguise these things from the more vicious eyes among them, and he suspects that’s why she agreed to accept him. Just that one kiss was enough to put a bullet right through the middle of everyone’s assumptions. </p>
<p>Only now is he considering how Edie might feel about it all. </p>
<p>He taps a tentative finger against her wrist. She looks up at him, blinking as if she’s just woken from a dream. She flashes him a little smile, then turns to Bud. </p>
<p>“I’m stuffed big fella… you’ll eat the rest of this for me so I don’t have to throw it out?”</p>
<p>Bud nods, reaching for her tray. A passing nurse shoots Edie a disapproving glare, but she just smiles sweetly back. “He’s a growing boy, ma’am. He needs a little extra.” </p>
<p>She flexes a thin arm at their big friend, and Bud laughs. </p>
<p>That night at dinner, she takes the place next to Bud and leaves the seat at Jackson’s left open. Her first night at Gorman, she’d followed them to dinner from the library, tucked close behind Jackson, clutching his hand. She’d filled the space beside him three meals a day, every day for the last four years. Her move leaves him feeling like he’d lost an arm.</p>
<p> He must give her a funny look, because she explains, “For Laura. So she can sit with you. Look Bud, our double date!” She bumps her shoulder against him, and he nudges her back with his elbow. A younger girl comes to sit next to Edie, and they begin a conversation. After a moment, Edie takes her hand, giving it a squeeze. The girl can’t seem to look away from their joined hands. He wonders when the last time she felt a touch in kindness, and tries not to be bitter about his own cold fingers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>4. Beginning of the End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eddie turns seventeen, and we're almost to the events of the movie.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Edie’s seventeenth birthday doesn’t feel any better or more exciting than the days before. It might even be worse. She wakes with the cold sense of dread that comes with knowing that in exactly twelve months, she’ll be packed off to the women’s penitentiary three counties over. Sheriff Hartman had made sure of that.</p><p>Her parole hearing, the one chance at freedom offered her, had gone as badly as possible. She had stood at a little podium in the county courthouse, explaining to the judge how she tutored little children who came to Gorman behind in their reading, how she volunteered in the kitchen on weekend’s when the cafeteria was short-staffed, how every nurse and orderly in Gorman House could give reference to how polite and well-behaved she’d been for the last eight years of her life. Then Hartman had stood up, smiled, and pulled a book of matches from his pocket.</p><p>“Now, Miss Parker, can you identify this item?” Hartman shoved the matches right under her nose, but she didn’t need to look any closer. She could feel all the color drain out of her face. Hopeless. It was all hopeless then.</p><p>“Yes sir, those are matches. People use them to light candles and such.” The bailiff gave a little snort he tried to hide under a cough. She wished he wouldn’t laugh.</p><p>“Candles, barbeques. House fires. All sorts of things, right, Miss Parker?” Edie said nothing. It was all over, anyway. “And yet, here these matches were, tucked into a little pocket of your mattress as Gorman House. Now can you explain to me why a model patient, fully reformed arsonist and murdered such as yourself would have such a forbidden item secreted away?” Hartman’s grin was dripping smugness, but his eyes her just as cold and hateful as she remembered.</p><p>She could explain, maybe, but what would be the point? She dreamed of the fire every single night, so vivid she could feel the heat blistering her face. The matches had been a test for herself, swiped from the desk of a too-complacent guard while she smiled in his face and refilled his coffee mug. She’d struck one after another, watching them burn down until they nipped at her fingertips. There had been no urge to feed the flames. In her head, the fire had been a means to an end. She need her stepfather away from her sisters. The fire had done that job. Dr. Lang had tried to convince her that the fire had been a compulsion, that the satisfaction she’d felt that night watching her home be engulfed had not come from the death of hated Luke, but from the act of burning in itself. Now she knew that wasn’t true. But there was no way Hartman and the judge would hear that.</p><p>The parole hearing was a week ago. She still hasn’t told anyone.</p><p>She walks down to breakfast with the rest of the girls. She hasn’t reminded anyone of her birthday, because she doesn’t feel like another half-hearted Gorman House celebration. Laura would have remembered, but she aged out three years ago. She writes Edie letters from her new home in Dallas once a month. She’s a receptionist in a doctor’s office, and her new name means none of her old family can ever find her and drag her back down into their life of gambling debts and hard drinking. As always, Edie does her best not to let envy make her bitter towards her friend.</p><p>Bud stands when she enters the cafeteria. His hug swallows her. He pulls a folded picture from his pocket and offers it to her before she walks up to get her tray. She opens it in line. A very small girl with detailed yellow spiral curls smiles back, holding a many tiered pink birthday cake. Edie doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She folds the picture carefully and tucks it into the pocket of her dress.</p><p>Someone touches her elbow. She turns and locks eyes with Jackson. He’s close.</p><p>“Happy birthday,” he says, giving her a small smile.</p><p>She rolls her eyes, hoping her face hasn’t gone too pink. “Did you get me a present too, Jack?” She bats her eyelashes when she says it, and she tries not to put too much meaning behind it when he glances away.</p><p>She takes her tray and moves down the line, taking a bit of everything. She’ll eat her fill, then let Bud have her leftovers. They refused to give him extra portions, and he was always left hungry.</p><p>On their way back to their seats, she catches the tail end of a sentence from a small, terrified voice.</p><p>“… didn’t mean too, really!”</p><p>Annie, fifteen, has apparently jostled Clarice. She’s shrinking back in obvious terror, her eyes wide and rolling like a spooked horse.</p><p>“Maybe you should be paying a little more attention to where you're goin', and a little less attention to the that table over there,” Clarice hisses, looking ready to pounce.</p><p>Edie diverts course, and she hears Jackson swear under his breath.</p><p>“Easy up, Clare,” Edie says, voice low and even. Both girls turn to watch her approach.</p><p>Clarice rolls her eyes. “Just trying to teach this kid to mind her fucking manners. She made me dump my biscuit!”</p><p>“Have mine.” Edie drops her too-dry biscuit on the blonde’s tray. “I think she gets the message. She’s about to piss her britches.” She winks at the younger girl, sending her off with a lift of her chin. The girl shoots her a grateful look and scrambles away.</p><p>Clarice snickers as they watch her go. “You’re too nice, Ed. I’ve had just about enough of these little girls thinking they can run all over us.” She glances back and sees Jackson waiting off to the side. She leans in and lowers her voice. “You better keep and eye on your man. I’ve caught a couple of these girls trying to move in on my Ike. If they’re bold enough to do that, lord knows what they’ll try with you.”</p><p>“Thanks for the heads up,” Edie says, keeping the sarcasm out of her voice. “See you in class.”</p><p>She lets Jackson lead her back to the table, hoping he didn’t hear Clarice’s last comment. It was just easier to go along with that kind of thing from Clarice. Better she think that Edie was taken, and that they had the boyfriend thing in common, than let her suspect that Edie might be interested in Ike instead. Girls who made the mistake of being interested in Ike, or the mistake of letting Clarice think they were, ended up in the infirmary or worse. Much easier to let her think that there’s something more than friendship between Edie and Jackson.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Class that afternoon is buzzing with gossip. According to Lydia, who helps with some of the filing for the front desk, a new nurse is coming to Gorman House. By itself isn’t really news. Nurses and orderlies are in and out of Gorman all the time. The real shock is that, according to Lydia, who had listened in on part of the interview, the new nurse is young, pretty, and sweet. Three things the kids of Gorman House aren’t at all used to seeing. Edie thinks there’s a certain meanness necessary in playing prison warden for a bunch of troubled children. Not to mention turning a blind eye to Dr. Lang’s treatments. Everyone knows that Lang gets away with a lot, thanks to the local law’s willingness to let him do as he pleases.</p><p>She turns in her seat to glance back at Jackson. She can see the wheels turning in his mind. It was a look that usually came to him right before he was sent to a new foster home. His quick mind weighing pros and cons, possibilities. A thousand thoughts flickering behind his dark eyes.</p><p>He looks up and catches her starring. She raises an eyebrow. She wants to know what he thinks about all this. He only shrugs in answer.</p><p>A clatter in the back of the rooms makes her whip around. Clarice has launched herself out of her seat and across the desk of the girl behind her. Quick as lightning, she slams the other girls head down, hard, into the wood of the desk. There’s a crunch, and blood splatters. Several people around the room cheer. Edie feels her stomach lurch.</p><p>She spins back around in her seat, swallowing over and over to keep from being sick. She tries taking deep breaths, a trick one of state therapists had taught her before her trial to keep herself calm. The class around her is in an uproar, the teacher trying to settle everyone into their seats. Orderlies are surely on their way to drag Clarice, and anyone else acting up, out of the room.</p><p>Edie slowly becomes aware of a hand on her back, rubbing slow steady circles. It’s Jackson, of course.</p><p>“Hey, hey, easy there. Easy, darling. You’re alright,” he murmurs quietly, kneeling on the ground with his face almost pressing against the side of her head. She wonders if he’s aware of what he’s saying, or if it’s just nonsense meant to soothe her. If so, it’s working.</p><p>She turns to him, reaching for him. He tugs her into him, and she buries her face against his shoulder. He keeps his rhythm against her back, and her breathing begins to slow, her stomach settling.</p><p>She pulls away, embarrassed, looking anywhere but into his face. “I’m sorry. I hate it when that happens.”</p><p>He stands, his hand still rubbing her back. All he says is, “Don’t worry about it,” before heading back to his seat.</p><p>The class is settling back down now, and the teacher is starting off on a lecture about proper classroom behavior and not encouraging violence. Nothing Edie needs to hear. Violence usually leads bloodshed, and bloodshed usually means she’s about to lose her lunch. A damn inconvenient reaction to have, in a place like Gorman House. Laura had always teased her about it, called her delicate. Maybe Laura had been right. What would that mean, come next year? Without Laura, without Bud, without Jackson around to look out for her, how will Edie fair somewhere like prison?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That night, Edie goes to bed but doesn’t sleep. She’s awake when Clarice, wanders in, her gaze unfocused. She collapses on her bed, her legs still hanging off the side. Dr. Lang’s effect is obvious to anyone who’s been at Gorman for any length of time.</p><p>Edie stands and makes her way over to the other girl’s bed. She sits down at the edge, brushing her fingers lightly across Clarice’s forehead. It’s damp with sweat. She’s trembling, just slightly. Edie eases her shoes off, and lifts her legs onto the bed. She pulls the thin red quilt from the foot of the bed over her. Then she runs her hand lightly down Clarice’s face, from forehead to nose, and the other girl finally lets her eyes fall closed.</p><p>She goes back to her bed. When she lowers her head this time, she notices something crinkling beneath her pillow. There’s no light in the room except what comes in from the hallway, but it’s enough. Stark against the crisp white bedsheet, a blue flower sits. It’s made from a piece of paper, carefully folded and tucked into a simple but recognizable rose.</p><p>There’s a note, too, scrawled onto a torn corner of notebook paper.</p><p><em>Bet you thought I didn’t get you anything</em>.</p><p>It isn’t signed, but she knows exactly who it's from.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Please let me know how I'm doing, what you like, and what I can do better in the future!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey all! This is my first fic, so please be kind! The chapters will alternate POV and move through their childhood up to the escape. I might play around with ages a bit to make them both about seventeen during that ordeal, because I also want to follow them after into their adult lives. It'll be pretty canon compliant up to the end of the movie, and then I'll do my own thing. Comments are really appreciated, I would love to hear what y'all think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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